The Flame Haired Girl
by earthgirl3015
Summary: Magic, blood, madness, love.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys. Anyone following me (eek I have followers!) knows that I've recently got my head out of my arse and finally finished my last story, by throwing it all at you at once as a Christmas present. Sorry about that.**

 **I've got this story that's been banging around in my head and it just needs to come out, and the thing is that I reasonably know how the middle and end of it is going to go...it's the beginning I'm having trouble with. Since I'm still new here (hence surprise at followers) can someone please explain/help me find a beta. I think I need one. In the mean time...here's the first chapter, let me know what you think.**

The morning has just broken when Annie awoke. She sat up slowly, blinking in the light of a new day, and instinctively rubbed her arms to try and stop the spread of the goosebumps on her arms. It was cold down here in the cellar, but then it had to be. After all, this was where the fine wines – _which Annie was not allowed to drink_ – and the salted meat – _which Annie was not allowed to eat_ – were stored. She had been told of the punishment which would befall her if she touched any of her surrounding food without the Sorcerer's express permission. The very thought of it chilled her to her bones.

Glancing towards the two other pallets, she saw that Mags and Sae were already gone. Annie sighed in the cool morning air. That meant they had tried to give her more sleep again, which was kind of them, but it could get them in trouble with the Sorcerer. He was very particular about how he was to be served in the mornings, and Mags was getting old, and didn't always put things in the right places. Besides, the Sorcerer seemed to prefer it when Annie was in the room. Mags and Sae always exchanged concerned looks when he called for her to serve him late at night. Annie understood what they feared the Sorcerer might do to her, but it would never happen, despite how much she wished for it. She was mad. Completely mad.

She was only useful for serving him, cleaning his floors or – if she was lucky – his shoes. She often wished he would look at her with even half of the love she felt for him. After all, he had taken her away from a terrible life condemned to begging in the streets. The Gods above only knew what he had seen in her to take her in.

Shaking herself from her melancholy thoughts, she hurried to dress, putting on her cleanest dress and spit-washing her shoes to make them gleam in the early morning light. She skipped up the steps two at a time and made her way to the kitchen.

Stopping just in the doorway the smell of fresh bread filled Annie's nostrils, making her smile and want to start dancing. No matter what was cooking in the kitchen, it always smelled of fresh bread near Sae. It was a relaxing smell, the kind that vaguely reminded Annie of something, a happy memory that was struggling to reach the surface. As with every day, she let the half-remembered memory fade and instead concentrated on the tray in front of her. There was the small kettle that held the very-very hot coffee ( _mustn't spill that, the Sorcerer will be ever so cross_ ) and the cup that went with it, the toast ( _with exactly ten grams of butter, not nine or eleven_ ), bacon ( _two rashers_ ), eggs ( _runny in the middle, solid around the outside_ ) and the cutlery ( _fork on the left side, prongs facing north, knife on the right side, pointy end also facing north_ ). Sae, busy bustling around, weighing ingredients for another of her tasty dishes, barely had time to say good morning before Annie carefully walked out of the kitchen, balancing the tray almost reverently on her palms.

She climbed the ninety-three steps up the tower to the Sorcerer's bedroom, paused to hear the usual sounds ( _the splash of the water basin, the footsteps as he approached his desk_ ), took a deep breath to calm her throbbing heart, and knocked carefully balancing the tray as she did so.

"Enter," came the curt reply. Annie opened the door.

The room looked smaller than it actually was, mostly because of the sheer amount of desks and tables in it. The large bed didn't help either ( _Annie was careful never to look fully at the bed, the sight of it made her turn red_ ). One desk in the far corner, which never got any sunlight, always smelled foul ( _the one time she had offered to clean it, he had slapped her. She had returned that night on her knees and spent a full two hours begging him to forgive her. She was so happy when he did, with a wave of his hand_ ), another closer to the light had lots of glass containers on it, some of them half full with rainbow liquids ( _after the dark desk she had never offered to go near the desks again, but she couldn't help admiring the sparkles of the glass_ ), another with some sharp implements on it – none of which looked very helpful, but she never questioned him again – and finally a small desk near the window, in full view of the sun, held a plant pot. White roses bloomed there all year round.

There was one in full bloom now. Annie instantly stood straighter. If she was really, really good – and quiet and attentive – maybe he'd cut one for her. He had before, as a token of his generosity, often with a speech reminding her of how lucky she was. She always whole heartedly agreed with him, and carefully dried out the flowers and placed them under her pillow. Their sickly sweet scent never seemed to fade. Annie loved to be surrounded by that scent, especially in the middle of the night, when she touched herself. It was the only way she could be with the man she loved completely.

"Is there something you want to get on with, girl, or are you having one of your ridiculous episodes?" the voice of the Sorcerer jerked her out of her daydreams – a hot blush filled her cheeks, she was always red when she was around him – as she stepped smartly to the table that stood next to the desk with the white roses on it. She kept silent. She was always supposed to be silent, unless addressed and then expressly told she could speak. She waited for a sign that her love was ready to be served. The Sorcerer sighed, then took a folded napkin from him pocket and shook it out.

"Go on. Serve me," his voice leering just slightly at the end of his sentence. Annie's heart leapt and she had to carefully place the tray down on the table or it would fall from her shaking hands.

She placed the plate on the table first ( _toast must always face the window, bacon directly in front of him, eggs on the left_ ), then the cutlery ( _fork on the left, knife on the right_ ), the kettle ( _put a hand cloth down so no coffee can spill onto the pristine table cloth_ ), and the cup ( _handle must always face the right_ ). She stepped back, her hands cupped in front of her, head bowed while she waited for any more orders.

"Pour for me," he demanded, no leer to his voice this time, only a grim sort of amusement. She tried to hide the way her shoulders stiffened, but she knew that he had seen. Her love saw everything.

Slowly she reached for the kettle. Although the grip on the handle was leather, somehow the steam or the heat of the coffee itself always seemed to travel up to the handle, making it almost uncomfortably hot for her to hold. Not only that, but she was never good at pouring, and he knew it. The first time she had spilled the coffee on the white table cloth, he had backhanded her so hard the bruise lasted for a week. Since then he had demanded she catch any more spilled drops. With her hand.

She didn't know why he chose to test her so, but she assumed he was testing to see how strong she was, how much pain she could endure. The fact that she had been so long in love with him, yet completely ignored, ought to be enough of a testament to her strength in the face of heart-wrenching torment. Yet she knew she could handle the scalding coffee ( _but that didn't make the first few drops any less painful_ ).

She got a good grip around the handle, holding her left hand under the spout as she moved it towards the cup. A drop fell onto her hand and a quick bloom of _red-black-pain_ shot through her nerves and she couldn't hold back a _scarlet-red-gasp_. She chanced a glance through her eyelashes and saw him staring at her, a gleam in his _snake-ice-blue_ eyes. She quickly redirected the spout and managed to get the coffee pouring steadily into the cup. She had to catch two more drops when she lifted it away, and more _red-red-black-pain_ gathered in her hand, but she acted as if it didn't bother her. She kept her palm up, holding the drops of hot coffee in them, so that she wouldn't spill them on the floor. He looked her over once more, and then turned his attention to his food, lifting the cutlery and beginning to eat. She stood there, silent as a statue, one hand held out as if offering a gift, for at least three minutes before he turned, with a huff of annoyance and instructed, "Get out."

Her head bowed, "Yes, Sorcerer Snow," Annie whispered as she turned away.

Keeping her palm elevated, she left as quietly as she could, wilting as she walked away from the door. The pain in her hand was nothing compared to the ache in heart that there was no new white rose to add to her collection.

She wandered down slowly in the direction of the kitchen, so that Mags and Sae could take a look at her palm.

 **I promise you that this is not an Annie/Snow fic! Annie/Finnick are my Hunger Games OTP (their story is much more interesting). Believe me, the roses bit made me very uncomfortable to write...but it is plot necessary, I promise. Annie/Finnick will have an exceptionally slow burn here, at least as slow as I can make it.**

 **So...thoughts? Please review/favourite/follow and please PM me with info about betas.**

 **And can anyone figure out what the colours mean?**


	2. Chapter 2

"That twisted old hermit! One of these days…one of these days I'll serve him a fish full of bones and leave him to choke on them!" Sae often said things like this after Annie came down with a bruise or some other mark from her encounters with Sorcerer Snow. The air around her turned _blue-red-black_ and the bread smell shifted to something ashy, as if a loaf had burned.

"Youu shoul'nt shay such fings," Mags garbled, her _sea-green-kind_ eyes dim as she looked at the _red-red-red-pain_ sore on Annie's hand, which Sae's salve – _green-cool-fresh-blue-relief_ – was now healing, "He'll heer ou wun o' theese days."

"And then he'll be left to starve, so it'll serve him right." Sae's voice was harsh, but her fingers gently pulled a bandage around Annie's hand, "Now try not to get that wet for the rest of the day and it should heal up a bit better by tonight." Annie nodded, although she knew this already, she'd spilled enough coffee to know how the medicine worked by now, but Sae always reminded her, as if the madness in her head might drive her to forget.

After she served Sorcerer Snow his breakfast she was to help Mags with the housework – the cleaning, sweeping and dusting and sometimes, if they were lucky, she and Mags got to go outside and clean out the horses – until lunch and then later dinner. She felt privileged to see Sorcerer Snow so often, as he rarely descended from his tower room, unless he was dealing with the cruel people from the land outside the gates.

Sorcerer Snow had told Annie that the people outside the gates were mean and harsh, and that they would hurt her very badly if she went near them. That's why he had hand-chosen Mags and Sae and Annie to be his household staff, he had known that they were good and kind and would care for him. Annie had beamed with pride for the entire day after being told this. Oddly enough, Sae and Mags never seemed to see this side of the story. Sae was upset more often than not when Annie came back from seeing Sorcerer Snow, and Mags did her best to stay out of his way. Only Annie seemed to truly appreciate Sorcerer Snow's intervention in what could have been a terrible life. Sae and Mags just shook their heads at her when she mentioned this, as if she was being silly.

But there was no time to think about that now, Annie and Mags had work to do. Mags got a bucket of hot water and a bright red scrubbing brush from the cupboard. Annie stood and went to retrieve some dry rags. Since she wouldn't be able to help Mags clean the stairs, she would dry up after Mags. Sae had told her before that it was a foolish thing to do, after all the stairs would dry up themselves. But Annie hated to see Mags' old body hunched over, doing work that should rightfully be hers, and so she attempted to help in any way she could. Even if it was silly. But she was mad, and therefore allowed to get away with it.

And so she and Mags washed the stairs and helped Sae clean the dishes, all three women chatting and smiling and enjoying each other's company. When the small clock that the Sorcerer allowed in the kitchen struck midday, Annie ascended the stairs again, this time bearing a tray of fresh hot bread ( _cut neatly into slices_ ) and a strong cheese ( _smells nasty, but he seems to like it_ ) with another small kettle, this time full of tea. When she knocked on the door, she heard a sharp sound _white-black-crash_ and what sounded like a rude word _blue-red-yellow-bruise_ before a strained voice called,

"Enter."

Annie walked into the room to find the Sorcerer standing over the desk with the many glass tubes, holding his hand slightly out from his body. Looking at the floor she found the remains of one of the tubes, with a blue liquid leaking over the floor and smoking a little. She looked first at the glass, then at the tray in her hands, then at the Sorcerer's hand and saw _red-red-red-red blood_ and made to walk towards him, but remembered the tray and set it down beside the one she had brought up with breakfast, now holding the empty dishes. As she turned towards him, about to offer her services, Sorcerer Snow's _ice-cold-blue-snake_ eyes looked up at her and his lip sneered.

"Well, don't stand around all day, you idiotic girl, go down and get a healing salve from one of the women downstairs." He turned away from her, looking at the shattered glass on the floor. Annie nodded, heading towards the door, "And…oh you stupid girl, don't forget the old tray." Annie cursed herself in her head, turned around and walked quickly over to pick up the other tray, and then hurried from the room before the Sorcerer could say any more horrible things. _He was hurt_ , she reminded herself, _nobody was kind when they were hurting_.

She ran into the kitchen and explained everything to Sae and Mags. Sae didn't look too pleased about handing over one of her healing salves, but at the desperate look on Annie's face she handed it over without much of a fuss. Mags likewise handed her a small brush and pan and garbled that she would be along soon with a bucket of water. Annie hurriedly nodded and almost ran back up the stairs, the quicker to heal her love.

He was standing by the table where his lunch was waiting, holding his bleeding hand aloft. She quickly set the salve down on the table, and then stood, waiting for instructions.

"Clean up the glass, girl. I can manage the salve." His hand was already moving towards it, his voice cold and dismissive. Annie turned away, her head bowed and knelt carefully down to begin sweeping up the glass, carefully avoiding the little trail of blue liquid, which had made a black mark on the floor. The glass made a loud shrill sound against her brush and she heard _red-black-blue_ words behind her and the Sorcerer's harsh voice saying, "Did I say you could use a brush, girl? Use your hands! I need to think without all this noise." Shrinking from his anger, Annie put down the brush and carefully reached for the bigger pieces of glass and placed them in the pan.

As she was picking up the smallest pieces as carefully as she could, she heard a wooden thunk coming from the stairs. Mags must be coming up, stopping every few steps to give her back a rest. Annie carefully placed the little splinters of glass in her palm into the pan and walked to the door to let Mags in. The old woman was still several steps below the door, so Annie reached down to take the water bucket from her. Mags gave her a gummy smile and muttered a 'thank you'. Together the two women finished the walk up the stairs, Mags leaning on Annie for support, a _blue-green-calm_ emanating from the other woman that calmed Annie's own nerves. Her love would be alright soon. Sae's salve would see to that.

The Sorcerer demanded they clean the floor while he finished smearing Sae's salve over his wound. His voice crackled _black-thunder_ as he finished with the salve and then reached for an old piece of cloth to wrap it in. Annie and Mags scrubbed as much of the floor as they could, thankfully the spilled liquid had stopped smoking, and when they were finished he sent them on their way.

The rest of the afternoon was spent cleaning and dusting the various rooms around the tower. Annie found that more half-remembered memories kept trying to rise from the depths of her mind – a small figure _pink-white-sweet_ had once lain on this small couch she was cleaning, hadn't they? Another _brown-blue-spice_ had once hidden in the back of an old oak cabinet she dusted later and when she walked into the room with the blue walls she could have sworn she heard somebody laugh _yellow-green-happiness_. She knew better than to try poking at these memories. Sorcerer Snow had told her it was just her madness, making her see and hear things that weren't there.

She served his evening meal at seven o'clock promptly. A warm stew of pig and mushrooms in cream with doughy potatoes on the side. It smelled lovely and her beloved's colours were _yellow-brown-content_ , although his _yellow_ was always sickly and his _brown_ full of dark shades. She turned without prompting and made to leave.

"Annie, dearest," her face flushed slightly at the tenderness in his voice, "I require your assistance tonight. You will be here at nine o'clock, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sorcerer Snow," she nodded her head and then skipped down the stairs to the kitchen. Her love needed her, needed her help. She was so happy she was able to aid him in his work.


	3. Chapter 3

Annie ate quickly, her and the other women's meal consisting of the leftovers of both this night and last night's dinners, but then found herself with a long wait before the Sorcerer expected her, as it was not even half past seven yet. She twiddled her thumbs and swung her legs, impatient for the time to pass.

Sae and Mags, their services done for the day, sat down to knit and sew around the kitchen fire. Mags pulled out a piece of Annie's half-finished knitting, lumpy and with several large holes, and offered it to her. She attempted a few stitches but her concentration was not willing to be chained to the humdrum clack of the needles and the feel of soft wool. She sat it down beside her chair and looked at the clock hands, the pendulum beneath swinging serenely. Seven-forty now. Still a long time to wait.

"He asked for you again then?" Sae's voice sounded kind, but her colours were muted, _grey-grey/brown-grey/black_. Annie nodded her head ecstatically, too happy in her thoughts to ask why Sae's seemed resigned. Mag's mouth turned down and she bent over her knitting so that her hair fell across her face, but it didn't hide her colours. There was more _grey, grey/black_ , but these colours were also tinged with a _red-orange-fire_. She mumbled something Annie couldn't understand, but Sae did and she moved in her seat as if uncomfortable, her face pinching and her colours seemed to twist in around themselves.

They sat like that for the better part of the hour and a half that remained; Annie occasionally knitting a few stitches before her concentration wavered and she refocussed on the clock, Sae darning one of Annie's pretty pink socks and Mags knitting quietly, but often with harsh movements, the _red-orange-fire_ growing slowly.

Finally, the clock struck nine. Annie stood and started towards the staircase. Mags tried to stand suddenly, her hand outstretched to Annie, but her old body was not as strong as it once was and she fell sharply to the ground. Sae dropped her darning and stooped to help her up. Annie stood, uncertain, but Sae seemed to have everything under control. As she turned away, she heard Sae speak softly,

"It'll do no good, you know that. There's naught we can do for her, he's got her too close." Her colours swarmed around each other, first _grey_ , then _red-orange_ , then _brown_ and finally a _black_ so dark it was terrifying to look at. Annie would hate to know what that _black_ felt like. Her feet took her quickly up the staircase, away from the strange actions and words of her caretakers.

The lighting was dark in the Sorcerer's room, only two candles keeping the darkness back. One was on the desk where she served the Sorcerer his meals, the other on the desk that was usually covered in darkness. She knew not to look at it though, the Sorcerer got angry if she did. He was standing with his back to her, by the small sink in a far corner. She saw glass instruments winking in the candle light, and a strange device she thought she'd seen before but couldn't name. It brought on the _bright-pink-hurt_ feeling of pain, however. She turned her head away from it and waited to be noticed.

The Sorcerer turned and saw her standing there.

"Ah, Annie, my darling girl," she blushed at the sweet words coming from his lips, "Right on time, well done. Now just take a seat and I'll be with you shortly." She sat on the chair at the desk ( _in his seat!_ ) and tried to see what he was doing. He was cleaning a small bowl that seemed to be made of a horrible black stone. For some reason, quite unknown to her, she shuddered at the sight of it.

He turned once more to face her and it seemed as though the candles died down to a tiny guttering flame, for his face was cast in shadows and his teeth seemed stained red as he smiled at her.

"Now, just relax, my child," and he began to say strange words, they sounded like nonsense to Annie's ears, and suddenly she felt drowsy. Her eyes came to rest on the candle on the desk in front of her and so entranced was she by the flickering flame that she didn't even turn around at the sharp _bright-pink-hurt_ pain that suddenly spread up her left arm.

"There's a good little girl." His voice sounded different, almost slimy, as though something rotten had been brought up into sunlight for the first time in years. She felt something smooth and cool be placed into the crease of her left elbow.

A sudden wave of thought swept through her mind, a deep feeling that broke through the fog cast by the candle and Snow's words. This had happened before.

She'd sat in this chair and had her arm milked like a cow for her blood, she could feel it oozing out and knew that the stone bowl he'd been cleaning before was collecting it. He was taking her blood. Why? She struggled to remember, fighting the seductive draw of the candle's glow and trying to block out his hissing words. In desperation, she cast her mind to other thoughts, trying to ignore what was happening and to her horror, her mind settled on events that had occurred earlier on today.

The rooms she'd cleaned, and the presences she'd half-remembered. They'd had names once. She struggled to hold on, the candle seeming to burn the memories even as she reached for them. _Pink-white-sweet_ , she'd had dark hair, hadn't she? But she'd giggled so prettily, like a little brook in spring time. Or was that just Annie's imagination? Spring, flowers, ring around of roses, a pocket full of…Posy. Her name had been Posy? Or had it? Annie struggled, her mind fighting itself as two trains of thought tried to make themselves reality. There had been a girl, but…now there wasn't? She'd gone away, that's what had happened…but nobody ever left the Tower, everybody knew that, even a mad girl like Annie. What had happened to her? What was happening to Annie now?

Her mind was screaming and Annie opened her mouth to voice it when…the candle light brightened, too much for her to keep looking into it. She pulled away, sat up and blinked harshly, trying to calm herself. The Sorcerer's hand touched her forehead and she instinctively leaned into it, like a cat seeking attention. Her head was suddenly calm and she felt all her troublesome thoughts float away, as if they'd never been at all. Her shoulders relaxed. She couldn't now remember why she'd been so upset. She was safe. The Sorcerer would look after her, he always had.

A small niggle at the back of her mind had her glancing down at her left arm, for some reason. It was still attached, all pale skin and slim lines. Nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever.

She looked up at the Sorcerer as he bustled over to the dark desk with his stone bowl, his face alight with a smile that showed all of his teeth. Clearly it was the lighting that made his teeth look so red. Teeth weren't naturally red, even a mad girl knew that.

She stood up and swayed a little, quickly reaching out her hand to steady herself on the chair.

"Yes, be careful how you move, my sweet one. You helped me a lot tonight."

"Was I good?" she bowed her head, in case the answer was no and then he couldn't see her tears.

"Very good," his footsteps came closer, and his hand touched her shoulder briefly. She looked up into his face, his smiling glinting face.

"So good, that I think you deserve this," and oh, joyous day, he reached across to the rose bush and cut a fully formed bloom, placing the stem, which still had a thorn on it, into her palm. It was all Annie could do to stay still, she wanted to jump and skip around the room for joy. Her beloved Sorcerer had given her another rose.

"Now on you go, you'll need to rest so you can serve me breakfast tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Sorcerer Snow." Annie carefully walked to the door, opened it slowly – it seemed so much heavier than it had earlier – and picked her way down the stairs.

Sae and Mags were waiting for her, both with _orange-brown-pink_ expressions. As Annie's foot gave out from underneath her, they reached for her and caught her in their arms. Sae muttered something that Annie didn't catch, her eyes were starting to feel so very heavy. Mags replied unintelligibly. The last thing Annie saw before the darkness claimed her was the perfect white rose still lying in her palm.

 **Well that was horrible to write. Hope you enjoyed**


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